Clear Eyes of Truth
by OneWingedSeer
Summary: Daughter of the Forest" from Finbar's point of view. He was the brother I understood best and we all could use a good fanfic from his point of view. If able, I would enjoy critiques on language most.
1. Chapter 1

"What about you, Finbar? What did she give to you?" she asked me.

I turned and smiled at my little sister. "Faith in myself," I said simply. The words came, almost as if I were not the one to steer the language I uttered. "To do what's right, and not falter, no matter how hard it gets."

"It was hard enough today," Sorcha said, no doubt thinking of the day's own required display of fortitude. How I wished that this would be the hardest of my future trials.

_It will be much harder in time. _The sentence sent a chill up my spine. I could not tell if this thought came from my own mind, or somewhere beyond myself. Yet I knew that it was true.

There were the feelings, the half-seen visions of the mind, the fears of the starless nights. There was something coming in the future that would affect all of us. And whether it was fueled from my own fears or not, I believed that Sorcha would be the one among us affected by this event most of all.

"I want you to remember, Sorcha," I said out loud. It was suddenly very important for her to understand. "Remember that I will always be there for you, no matter what happens. It's important."

I turned towards the lake, wishing I could keep Sorcha safe from all the dangers of the world. My little sister, dancing through the dappled greens on a forest path…

That was the image that kept every cold vision at bay, every dark night contained.

To keep her safe and innocent, I would do anything.

I turned back towards Sorcha's green-eyed scrutiny. "Now come on, it's time we went back down."


	2. Chapter 2

I slipped inside the kitchen, blending into the shadows silently, but not subtle enough to avoid my brother's encompassing senses. I knew by the curve of his mouth and the gentle nod he threw my direction as he arbitrated between two irritated farmers. I nodded in return with a small smile and slipped into the shadows until he was done and the two men, satisfied by Conor's judgment, had departed.

I approached the desk from behind Conor's right shoulder, watching silently as he applied ink and quill over parchment, the candle light catching in both his chestnut brown hair and my own ebony curls. Our silence was comfortable, that of two spirits that need not speak to communicate. The muffled sounds of Fat Janis giving orders in the kitchen mixed like a countermelody to the steady scratches of Conor's labors.

After some time, Conor spoke with an everyday tone, as if we were discussing light matters of the Tuath. "You remember Father's command that you should be ready tomorrow to ride with our two brothers."

It was not a question and so I answered with a stiff stillness that spoke all too clearly of my memories concerning that event. I knew what Father had decreed and I hoped that Liam would not be held too accountable for my absence, but that did not make my choice any less clear.

Conor's lip twitched in a suppressed grin, supposedly at my stubbornness. "There happens to be a young family who requires some assistance on the south side of the lake. You could go and help them after the betrothal feast. The weather would not permit you to return in time to ride out with Father."

I nodded, appreciating Conor's efforts to help. Yet this was not the path that I was required to follow for now. Nor was Father's path of bloodshed and campaigning for me. I needed to follow my own path. Something was coming. A stranger. A Briton. I had seen his face a few times now in the shadowy visions that some called the Sight. Due to those, I knew that I needed to be here when he came, but I wasn't sure that telling Conor of this would be wise. The Sight was often wrong.

Conor lowered his voice even further. "You plan to be somewhere else?" Conor's shrewd assessment both amused and alarmed me. I had enough of a shield on my mind that Conor could not have known. With casual explanation, he said, "Your thoughts blaze from your eyes, Finbar."

I looked away, not responding, for he already knew. "I came to let you know. Cormack can go in my place."

Conor returned to his meticulously drawn inscriptions. "He will be delighted, I am sure."

With careful fingers, I pulled the cloak's sturdy hood over my untamable ebony curls, shooting a quick smile at my brother. "Thank you, Conor." I raised my voice a little and said, "Padriac would be a great choice to assist the southern settlements. He always loves seeing Old Vaughn's hounds."

"I will send him then. Thank you for your input, brother," he said in the same distant manner; a tone to divert the questioning looks that were cast our direction from Seamus's men in the main hall.

His steady, wise eyes looked up at me. _Be safe, Finbar. You cannot escape Father's anger for long._

I understood the warning he offered, but we both also understood that it was unnecessary. I knew the risks for my actions.

_I know,_ I sent back towards him and with a last glance in Conor's direction, stepped out into the chill night winds of autumn.


	3. Chapter 3

Oak, ash, and pine passed me by on the rocky hillside under a blanket of twinkling stars. My cloak barely rustled in the slight breeze. Already the Earth was getting ready to shed her autumn hues and welcome in the winter. I could feel it through the bite of chill in the air and the slight crunch my leather boots made on the hard ground.

These lands were perhaps more home to me than the castle. I knew each bush and gulley without looking. Out here I could feel myself; I could see my path clearly. Something that was harder and harder to do as the years passed.

I had come to find a place to find peace to think and to feel the way. There was a turning point coming up that much depended on and the right path must be chosen when the time came. I could sense it coming and also knew the choices would be mine.

One of the seven streams twinkled peacefully in the starlight as I neared the valley it ran through. The wind whispered and the trees spoke, whispering, _Here. Rest here. Find your way here, young seeker._

I listened to the grounds speak and went to settle by the sparkling water, cross-legged on the cool grasses of autumn.

Like the whispers of a dream, the visions began, almost as if they had been waiting for me to be still. Images flashed before my eyes like leaves before the wind each too quick to catch in my consciousness.

_There was a flash of golden barley hair which changed to the red of a braising copper. Both distinctive hues of the Britons. _

_There was a little boy, perhaps Liam, running through the woods towards the lake. Then a swishing glimpse of that copper hue and the image faded._

_The world turned black, the stars stopped casting their silvery lights. There was a great rushing feeling within my breast. And the beating…the beating of a drum or a mighty pair of wings. Something was strange. Cold. Hunger. Strange land. Strange place. No right, no wrong…existence._

A breath cascaded into my lungs, bringing me back into the starry, autumn night. Fear of that last vision was all that remained of the experience. That and the sense that I must return to the house and stay there until the time of the Briton's arrival.

_That must be the golden hair, but what of the red? Who is the one with hair like flame?_ I asked the winds.

All the answer I got was a soft, _Go home. Go back,_ from the grasses.

Looking at the sky, I remembered again the last vision, the disturbing vision. I could not shake that feeling of not having right or wrong or choice. Simply the cold and the drums and the strangeness.

With a shiver entirely unrelated the chill air, I headed back towards the lake.

There was a sort of acceptance that had to be learned with the unique gifts of the Sight. At least that is what Conor has suggested repeatedly. I looked back at the stream, feeling the soft curls fly across my cheek.

I did not know if acceptance was the lesson needing to be learned, but rather understanding how not to feel the guilt that always accompanied these visions. I gave a wide smile to the hills, thinking _that's Sorcha's suggestion anyway. My wise little owl…_

Thinking of Sorcha lifted my spirits as no other thought could. I opened up my mind and felt her deep slumbering exhaustion through my own body. Sorcha's safe. I could handle all the uncertainties in the world if I knew she was safe and free.

An owl flew through the air, her glossy coat reflecting the moonlight as she swooped onto a nearby branch. She turned her glowing eyes on me and it was back. _The strangeness. The cold. The great beating of wings._

When I opened my eyes again the owl was gone into the night. I traveled swiftly after that, making my way across hill and valley like a thing of the wild. Thinking about the vision, I did not see any way to prevent it. _What will come will come,_ as Conor would say and for now I decided to let it be that way.


End file.
